


Thou Doth Not Protest Enough

by newbie93



Series: TDPTM [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, TDPTM, thou doth protest too much universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/pseuds/newbie93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons learns the hard way that dating a reformed protestor means getting roped into whatever it is he's now unable to say no to.</p><p>Also, a puppy named Pickle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thou Doth Not Protest Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agent85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/gifts).



> Shwaaaa?!?!? Where the hell did THIS come from?!
> 
> I'll tell ya! It came from a prompt from the lovely agent-85 on Tumblr who's name was drawn as a winner of my, "Follower Appreciation Giveaway." She requested a continuation of the Thou Doth Protest Too Much universe and this is what was produced! Hope you enjoy it friend!
> 
> You don't necessarily have to have read TDPTM to understand/(hopefully) enjoy this. There are a few mentions of events from that fic but they're pretty vague and you'll probably be able to use common sense to put the pieces together. Also PS if you HAVE read TDPTM: This is NOT the 'Jemma's POV' teased at the end of that. This is just some future point in that verse that just happens to be in Jemma's POV.

It’s entirely cliché and Jemma is both embarrassed and annoyed with herself for it, but she can’t help but tear up as Fitz hammers the nail into  _their_ wall with a beaming grin. He turns to her in triumph once only the smallest stub of iron is visible and eagerly waves his arm in her direction, beckoning her forward with an infectious giddiness that Jemma is more than happy to catch.

He’s practically _vibrating_ with excitement and Jemma would tease him about it if it weren’t for the fact that she is as well. She moves towards Fitz with a smile nearly as wide as the one on his face and pauses in front of the bare wall, hands loosely gripping the frame clutched between her fingers. She takes a shaky breath at the sight of the blank space before her and feels the blood thrum in her body as she realizes that the off-white wall will soon be covered with something _else_ that’s just shy of eggshell. 

Her smile grows at the thought and swells even more when she feels Fitz wrap his arms around her from behind, hands twined together on her stomach and chin resting on her shoulder. 

He’s silent for a few long moments and Jemma decides to wait him out, knowing that he won’t be able to stay quiet for long, and laughs in delight as he tickles her stomach and impatiently says, “Well, go on then!” 

She shifts her head slightly, catching Fitz’s gaze and biting her lip in an attempt to keep her grin in check. It doesn’t work because the movement causes Fitz’s eyes to flicker to her lips and Jemma decides that there’s really no reason to keep her smile at bay. She cranes her neck slightly, catching his lips in her own and letting the grin once again overtake her at the tightening of his arms and the feel of his own smile beneath hers. 

When she pulls back, all she sees is love and excitement and, not for the first time, Jemma is astounded that she and Fitz are _here._ And, more importantly, they’re here _together._ After all of the pain and misunderstandings, rocky starts and _restarts,_ they’re now grinning like fools in an apartment whose rental agreement has _both_ of their signatures on it. 

She’d consider it to be her greatest accomplishment if it weren’t for the carefully framed piece of paper that she’s still clutching in her hands. 

“ _Jemmaaaaaa.”_

Fitz’s impatience makes her laugh again and she gives him another chaste kiss before turning back around with an affectionate, “Alright, alright!” 

She gingerly lifts the frame, slotting the small hook around the nail that Fitz had made _certain_ was in the best place for optimal viewing, and when it’s resting against the wall she presses her back further into Fitz’s chest and twines her now empty fingers through Fitz’s where they’re still resting across her abdomen. 

A _small_ amount of water seems to make its way to the surface of her eyes again but Jemma can’t really find it in herself to care. She can’t recall a single moment that caused a warmth quite like this one does and knows that it’s because nothing to date has been worthy enough to produce such a feeling. The combination of the sight in front of her and the press of Fitz against her is enough to make Jemma know with certainty that this is the happiest she’s ever been. This moment and this phase of her life in general, this life with _Fitz,_ are her peak.

The thought that tomorrow will likely cause a new peak, and the week after will cause another, and that there are likely a million more to come, makes Jemma laugh in delight.

The sound causes Fitz’s arms to tighten around her and Jemma grins at the feeling of his lips whispering against her ear. 

“I can’t believe we did it.” 

The grin falters slightly and Jemma audibly scoffs, twisting around in Fitz’s arms and looping hers around his neck as she prepares to chastise him for ever thinking they _couldn’t_ do it. The words never actually need to be said though because she catches sight of the smirk on Fitz’s face and can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his teasing.He lets out a chuff of laughter at the sight and tugs her closer as his eyes move to the framed patent behind her. 

He peers at it, a combination of pride and astonishment on his face, and Jemma takes the chance to observe him while _he’s_ distracted observing their mutual achievement. 

She’s struck once again by the feeling of rightness that always seems to overcome her when looking at Fitz. He’s a complete puzzle to her, and yet, she knows him better than she knows herself. She knows everything and nothing. She’s learned an abundance during their time together and will learn even more as time goes on, a fact that sends a pleasant thrill through her as she takes in the sight before her. 

Fitz seems a bit overwhelmed, eyes a bit more moist than they were a few moments ago, and Jemma suddenly realizes that this is his first patent in _years._ This is the first of his brilliant designs that he’s been _allowed_ to create and share since his falling out with SciTech and Jemma is astonished that she hadn’t fully processed that fact before. Fitz, who has spent _years_ pushing his passion and talents aside simply because he wasn’t allowed to pursue them is now staring at a patent, _their_ patent, that firmly places him back into the world of science. 

Jemma feels the tears prickle her eyelids again as she thinks of the despondent Fitz that had sat her down and told her about the worst parts of his life, and feels a surge of pride at the sight of the Fitz that is now standing before her. He’s staring at their newly decorated wall with a look of complete and utter awe and, for a brief second, Jemma has the odd sensation that she’s witnessing a private moment. A moment meant for Fitz and Fitz alone. A moment of letting go, welcoming change, and realizing that a dark past doesn’t mean a bright future is impossible. 

The feeling of intrusion dissipates immediately when his glistening eyes return to hers and she sees the unspoken truth that every moment from here on out will be for the _both_ of them. 

Jemma shifts her arms, pulling them from where they’re looped around his neck and moving them so that she can wrap them around his torso in a hug that she hopes conveys all of the feelings that Webster still hasn’t been able to define. Fitz doesn’t hesitate to tighten his own arms, somehow pulling her even more flush against him, and Jemma pillows her cheek against his chest as she sighs in complete and utter contentment.

Only it’s not _contentment._ It’s more than that. 

“I’m so happy.” 

She whispers the words against his shirt, still smelling like the cologne she’d sprayed on him in bed that morning, and realizes that no truer words were spoken. She feels more than hears the breath that Fitz sucks in and shifts her head so that she can look at him again, chin propped against his chest and the smile she’s been wearing every day since their second first night together firmly in place. 

The sight she’s greeted with stuns her, Fitz gazing down at her with more happiness and awe than what he’d previously directed towards their framed patent. He leans his head down, capturing her lips in a kiss that promises lazy Sunday mornings and cozy nights, and breaks away to murmur a soft, “I love you.” 

It’s something she’ll never tire of hearing and Jemma doesn’t hesitate to repeat the words before moving forward to press a dozen scattered kisses across his face. When the final one lands on his lips with an audible smack, Jemma releases the giggles she’s bottled up since the first box was lugged into their home and burrows her face into the space between Fitz’s neck and shoulder. 

Fitz laughs along with her, a low rumble spreading from his chest to his throat where Jemma feels the vibrations against her cheek, and squeezes her tightly against him. She ghosts her lips across his neck, humming in delight at the goosebumps that seem to explode across his skin, and decides to once again wait for him to break the silence with the proposition she _knows_ is coming. 

“Mmmm… since we’re both in such a good mood…”

Jemma grins against Fitz’s neck, already knowing where his thoughts are headed, and revels in the fact that, despite her wholly logical understanding that mind-reading is _not_ real, Skye might actually have been on to something when claiming that she and Fitz were psychically linked. 

“…now’s probably the best time to tell you that I told Mack we’d dog-sit Pickle the week he’s in Peru for that SHIELD protest.” 

Jemma’s thoughts of her recently purchased lingerie and a night spent debauching their new apartment come to a screeching halt as she processes Fitz’s words. She yanks her head away from where she’d been nuzzling his neck and pulls back so that she can get a good look at the man in front of her. 

“You _what_?!” 

Her question is more of a screech than anything and Fitz winces slightly before biting his lip and giving her a guilty smile. Jemma narrows her eyes at the sight as she comes to the realization that this whole night was likely just meant to lull her into a blissful state so that Fitz could drop this little bomb on her. She should have known something was up earlier when he’d let her pick dinner _and_ the movie. 

_The wily bastard._

She knows her expression must be terrifying considering the way Fitz gulps at the sight and nervously begins tapping his fingers against her waist, but Jemma can only regret that it’s not terrifying _enough_ for him to immediately dial his friend and tell Mack that they most certainly _will not_ be Pickle’s temporary caregivers. 

He swallows nervously again and Jemma prides herself on the fact that her eyes don’t stray to watch the way the action pulls his neck taught and causes his Adam’s apple to shift beneath his skin. Instead, she keeps her glower firmly in place and watches Fitz’s mouth open and close as he struggles to find the words to explain what the hell he’s gotten them into. 

“Yeah I… well he was telling me about how Callie was going to do it, only they just found out that her apartment doesn’t even allow animals. And, well, I remembered that _ours_ does…” 

“ _Fitz…_ ” 

“…and he asked me if I might consider helping him out! It’s _only_ for a week Jem. Mack’ll give us all the food and whatever other supplies there are and we’ll just… you know… watch the puppy.” 

Jemma stares at Fitz in astonishment as she realizes that her complete and utter dunce of a boyfriend, despite spear-heading _numerous_ protests, is apparently incapable of saying no to Mack and the hell-beast he calls a dog. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she settles on groaning in frustration and stepping out of the warm cocoon of Fitz’s arms. 

“No way. Absolutely not.” 

Jemma shakes her head vehemently as she crosses her arms over her chest and stares Fitz down. Of course, the only thing more puppy-like than an _actual_ puppy is her boyfriend, and his face turns pleading before she even manages one shake of the head. Normally those baby blues could convince her to at least _consider_ whatever it was Fitz was begging for, usually a new takeout place or particularly awful action film, but this time she knows she won’t waver. 

“ _Jemma…_ ”

He takes a step closer to her and Jemma takes her own step back, knowing that, as strong as her resolve may be, the combination of a pleading _and_ tactile Fitz could weaken her. Which she _can’t_ let happen if she wants to keep their new apartment, and all of the new furniture _in_ the apartment, free of dog fur. 

“It’s not happening Fitz! And just _why_ would you agree to something like that without talking to me first?” 

She shoots him a look that has Fitz hanging his head for a moment before he lifts it back up with an apologetic expression firmly in place. He takes another step closer and, though she doesn’t take another one back, Jemma’s fairly certain that her posture makes it pretty clear that she won’t back down. 

“I know, I _know._ I should have talked to you first. I’m sorry! It’s just, Mack was begging me, all panicky and frantic, which made _me_ panicky and frantic, and he leaves tomorrow so…” 

Jemma’s eyes widen at this new piece of information and she quickly cuts him off before he can keep rambling. “What do you mean he leaves _tomorrow_?!” 

Fitz grimaces slightly at the question, rocking on his feet as his gaze shifts to some random point above her shoulder. His hand moves to rub at the base of his neck and immediately clues Jemma in to the fact that he thinks he has something to be nervous about. 

 _Which he does._  

“Right umm… I… we’re… I’m meant to pick up Pickle in the morning.”

“ _Fitz._ ” 

Her hand automatically moves to pinch the bridge of her nose as she mentally counts to five in an attempt to prevent herself from taking the leftover cake they’d all but spoon-fed each other for dessert and rubbing her boyfriend’s face in it. In the next moment, Fitz is in her space again, one hand on each of her shoulders, and head ducking down in an attempt to catch her gaze. Jemma lasts another full five seconds before pulling her hand away from her nose and looking up at Fitz. 

“I’m sorry! I just couldn’t say no!” 

He’s biting his lip again and Jemma _knows_ that his apology is sincere, but the bitter part of her that wanted to spend her first week cohabitating with her boyfriend _without_ the distraction of a puppy that has yet to be potty-trained doesn’t want to let him off easy.

“You know, for a former protestor, you sure don’t say no to much these days.” 

Fitz moves closer to her, thumb now rubbing soft circles into her shoulders, and gives her a sweet smile that Jemma internally scoffs at. It’s the smile he _always_ wears when they’ve reached the conclusion of a small spat, and indicates that he thinks her small joke means he’s in the clear. _Not on your life bub._  

“Yes, but I’m a _reformed_ protestor. I got scared straight, remember?” 

His breath washes over her now, mouth a few scant inches from hers, and Jemma rolls her eyes at what was basically the understatement of the century. “Yes, I suppose getting _arrested_ for breaking and entering and thrown in prison might cause one to reevaluate their life choices.” 

Fitz bristles slightly at this, a flicker of regret passing over his face before it clears in the next second and he’s left staring fondly at her. “True, for most people it would. _But…_ that’s not actually what set _me_ on the straight and narrow.” 

He grins down at her and Jemma hates her body’s natural reaction to the sight of his blue eyes boring into her and the gentle movement of his fingers along her shoulders. “Oh really?” 

It comes out a bit breathier than she’d hoped it would and Jemma wants to groan when she spots Fitz’s smile widen. “MmmMmm. No, _actually_ the most beautiful…”

“Fitz.” 

It comes out as a groan and she immediately begins shaking her head in the hopes that it might make him stop his combined groveling and flattery before he gets too far. 

“…intelligent…” 

He moves closer, _clearly_ about to nuzzle her neck and litter her face with kisses, so Jemma quickly puts out her hand to firmly press against his chest. “Don’t even try it.” 

Fitz sighs slightly at the rebuff before noticing the quirk of Jemma’s eyebrow and quickly finishing his statement. “…kind, compassionate, and _forgiving_ woman in the world set me straight. Accused me of protesting too much.” 

Jemma huffs at his poor attempt at charm ( _really Fitz, you think bringing up the absolute lowest point of our relationship will help get you out of this one?_ ) and pushes his chest _just_ enough that he’s no longer in her personal bubble. “Well now an angry, upset, and _tired_ woman thinks you don’t protest _enough._ You should have told Mack no.” 

She gives him a slight swat to shoulder before brushing past him, only stopping when his hand grasps hers on her way by. 

“Jem…”

“I’m going to bed. Good thing we moved the couch in today, huh? I’m sure you’ll sleep comfortably on it.”

“Oh c’mon Jemma don’t…” 

She arches a brow, crossing her arms over her chest again, and stares at him with a feigned look of surprise. “Oh, _now_ you’re going to protest again?” 

His mouth snaps shut at that and his fists clench at his side as Jemma watches his internal struggle to figure out the best way to respond. Unsurprisingly, her genius boyfriend settles on the option that will cause the least amount of problems: silence. 

She smiles smugly before turning on her heel and walking into the direction of their- tonight _her-_ bedroom. When she makes it to the door and turns round to face Fitz again, he’s in the same spot she’d left him and Jemma gives him an airy wave that he responds to with a rather pitiful raising of his arm. 

“Just think of it as science Fitz. You agree to dog-sit in our house without talking to me about it first… and then wind up in the _doghouse_ yourself. See? Cause and effect.” 

She wiggles her fingers once more before shutting the door to the bedroom just as Fitz’s groan makes its way through the apartment. 

-O-

Day 1: 

“ _Fitz!”_

She’s not sure she’s ever screamed so loud, or effectively considering how quickly she hears the running of feet, but Jemma’s also certain that she’s never had a _reason_ to scream so loud in the past. Her hands are clutching the towel around her body in what she can only really describe as a rage-grip and she’s balancing precariously on one foot, listening as Fitz’s footsteps grow closer. 

“Jemma?! Jem… What’s wrong? Are you oka…” 

The second Fitz sees her his concern vanishes, replaced with hysterical laughter that makes Jemma want to throw the dog poop currently stuck to the bottom of her foot at his face. 

She can feel her blood boiling as Fitz braces himself against the doorframe, tears now streaming down his face as his laughter echoes throughout the room, and Jemma tugs her towel off and proceeds to furiously wipe it along her foot. The laughter quickly turns into choking and Jemma raises her head to glower at her boyfriend who is now conveniently speechless. His eyes are wide, roving over her body in a way that would _normally_ make her pounce on him but _now_ just pisses her off. 

“Yeah enjoy the view. It’s not something you’ll be seeing again for awhile.” 

Fitz lets out a pitiful groan at this but wisely doesn’t say anything as she continues to scrub at her foot. When she deems it poop-free enough that walking won’t leave tracks on their hardwood floors, she tosses the dirty towel at her boyfriend’s head and moves to take her _second_ shower in twenty minutes. 

“I’m going to wash up. _You_ can wash up after Pickle. M’pretty sure that puddle _you_ stepped in whilst laughing at _me_ isn’t water. Ta.” 

Jemma slams the door behind her but waits to turn the shower on so she can hear… 

“Oh god _dammit_ Pick…” 

-O- 

Day 2: 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.” 

When Jemma opens the door to her apartment, she assumes she’ll see physical evidence of Fitz’s attempt at making amends for the Pickle-poop incident from the day before. 

Which she does. 

The table is set, a vase of blue and violet Hyacinth in the center, she spots a nice bottle of wine next to a small TeaTime box that she’s _certain_ is filled to the brim with her favorite pastries, and a delicious scent is wafting through the apartment. 

She sees all of his efforts to apologize for yesterday. 

She _also_ sees a hole in her favorite brown Oxfords, six shredded throw pillows, and approximately 1,000 down feathers blanketing nearly every surface of the living room. She grits her teeth at the sight and looks around for the demon responsible for making her apartment look like a war zone. As she does, she hears the muffled sound of Fitz’s voice calling to her from another room. 

“Jemma? You home? Hang on I’m in the kitchen. Be right out!” 

She walks further into the apartment, positioning herself in the center of the chaos and shifting so that she’s facing the closed swinging door of the kitchen. She’s greeted by Fitz’s backside first as he pushes the door open with his bum, arms laden with whatever it is that smells so good. 

“Nearly cost me an arm and a leg but I convinced Phil to give me the recipe for that brisket you love so much! Figured I’d take a whack at it tonight to make up for… well ‘everything’ is a bit general a word but… appropriate in this case I think.” 

Jemma’s eyes are locked on Fitz as he carries the enormous platter of food to the table, completely oblivious to everything else. 

“I know you’re upset about my agreeing to look after Pickle for Mack.” He pulls out a matchbook and lights the candles on the table. 

“And I _know_ I should have talked to you about it first.” His tongue sticks out of his mouth as he yanks the cork out of the wine bottle. 

“And I just wanted to reaffirm that I’m _sorry,_ and I _love you._ ” 

He pours a generous helping (though still not generous enough in Jemma’s opinion) of the Pinot into a glass, picking it up as he says, “I know you don’t like Pickle Jem. But, for a puppy, he hasn’t done anything _too_ bad all things consid…” 

His words taper off as he finally peers up at her, beaming smile dropping from his face and a look of horror taking its place. His eyes flicker across the room and his mouth drops open at the sight of her standing in the havoc that Pickle reeked on their apartment. 

“Oh… oh no.” 

His eyes finally land on hers and Fitz quickly raises his hands as though she’s some sort of wild animal that’s about to be let loose on him. A small part of Jemma is a bit offended by it, but the _larger_ part doesn’t think he’s that far off. 

“He was only out of my sight for _five_ minutes! I just went into the kitchen to finish up with dinner!” 

Jemma sighs at Fitz’s exclamation, not able to be _too_ upset with him considering he _was_ just trying to do something romantic for her, and finally shrugs out of her jacket before tossing it atop the only chair not covered in feathers. When she looks back at Fitz at takes in his despondent expression, Jemma sighs again and works her way over to him. 

She brushes off a smudge of flour from his cheek in a silent truce that’s only further cemented when she stands on her toes to place a lingering kiss where the streak of white had been. When she falls back to her normal height and spots the apologetic look on Fitz’s face, she gives another small smile and a defeated shrug of the shoulders. 

“Where is he now?” 

Fitz’s eyes widen at the question and the fact that he can’t tell her the exact coordinates of the devil makes Jemma want to thump her head against the nearest surface. 

“I… Umm… I don’t…” 

A sharp yelp coming from the direction of their bedroom interrupts Fitz’s stammering and Jemma lets her head fall against his chest with a groan as she imagines what damage Pickle has likely done to their king bed. 

Fitz groans as well, squeezing her hands before hastily saying, “I’ve got it.” He gives her a quick kiss to the temple before sprinting towards their bedroom. 

Jemma winces at the sound of, “Oh Pickle… _No Pickle!_ Those are _not_ chew toys,” and promptly snatches her wine glass from the table, swallowing large mouthfuls of the beverage and letting out a pitiful moan when she spots Fitz walking out of their room, a puppy in one hand and shredded la Perla in the other. 

-O- 

Day 3: 

“That’s it. Out. Get out and more importantly, get _Pickle_ out.” 

She’s standing in their hallway, holding up another pair of recently murdered Oxfords and glaring at the small puppy cowering behind Fitz’s legs. 

“Jemma…” 

It’s the annoying tone he uses whenever he _thinks_ she’s on her period, a frustrating combination of soothing and condescending, and it finally makes her snap. 

“This is the _third_ pair of shoes he’s ruined Fitz! And I’ve made _zero_ progress on this presentation for SciOps. You and Pickle are staying in your _old_ apartment with Auntie Skye until Mack comes home so I can get some work done and not have to worry about stepping in feces or finding my _very expensive_ undergarments, that _you_ seem to like just as much as me I might add, shredded to pieces.” 

He looks as though he’s about to argue so Jemma decides to plead rather than demand. “ _Please_ Fitz. I’m _exhausted._ Just… just _please…”_

Jemma’s voice trails off at the look on Fitz’s face and she furrows her brows in confusion, not understanding why he looks as though she’s slapped him. His face is pale and it looks as though he’s struggling to breathe. Jemma’s about to step forward, to crowd his space and check him for a fever, but then he’s nodding his head slowly. 

“Okay. I’ll umm… Me and Pickle will get out of here.” 

Jemma wants to sigh in relief but she’s still a bit perturbed by the way Fitz is avoiding her gaze. She’s about to ask him what’s wrong but then his eyes snap back to hers and all she sees in them is desperation. 

“I… I can come back though, right? When Mack comes back I can too?” 

She blinks in confusion at the question, completely uncertain as to why he’d ask something so absurd, and shakes her head in bafflement. “What?” 

Fitz looks as though he’s fighting back tears and Jemma finds herself at a complete loss as to what’s happening. 

“This… we aren’t… you aren’t…” 

Jemma’s eyes widen in understanding as she finally puts two and two together, remembering the _last_ time she’d tearfully told him she was exhausted, and she lets the shredded shoes fall to the floor in favor of marching up to Fitz and tugging his head down so that she can kiss him with everything she has. 

When she pulls back, she wraps her arms around Fitz and squeezes as tightly as she can. His arms are just as tightly wound around her shoulders and she feels his relieved sigh puff against her neck when he nuzzles into her. Jemma pulls back again to get a good look at him and lets her fingers rove over his face, nails catching along his stubble and brown eyes boring into blue. 

She places a kiss to his jaw before moving her hands to grip at his t-shirt, raising herself to her tiptoes so that they’ll be at eye-level when she says what she plans to. 

“I _love_ you Fitz. You drive me absolutely batty sometimes but I _love_ you. Okay? That’s not changing anytime soon. This is _our_ home until we decide we want a different one. I’m just _really_ anxious about this presentation and all I can focus on is worrying about whatever Pickle is going to destroy next.” 

Fitz lets out another soft sigh and Jemma worries that he’s still unconvinced until he looks up with a small smile and a nod of understanding. She leans forward to give him a soft kiss to the lips and feels a wash of relief when Fitz responds enthusiastically, immediately transforming the initially chaste kiss into one that leaves Jemma breathless when he pulls away. 

He brushes his nose against hers and Jemma grins up at him, no longer worried about him not understanding that she’d like _him_ to be around her as much as humanly possible. 

“I’ll text Skye to let her know that she’s about to get two new roommates.” 

Jemma presses half a dozen kisses to his jaw, moving her hands to scratch the short hairs at the base of his neck and sighing once again in relief at his words. “ _Thank_ you Fitz. Or… actually, hey if you want _I_ can crash at Skye’s for the next few days, let you and Pickle have the place.” 

This causes a loud burst of laughter to leave Fitz’s mouth as he stares at her in disbelief. “You think _Skye_ will be less distracting than Pickle? You wouldn’t get _anything_ done living with her. _Trust_ me. Nah, I’m the one who agreed to puppy-sit. I’ll just go back to the old stomping grounds for a few days, pawn him off on Mack the second he’s back, and then come straight home to you.” 

His smile widens at the mention of coming home to her and Jemma can’t fight her own grin at the visual of Fitz waltzing through the front door and scooping her up in his arms on the way to their bedroom. 

-O- 

Day 4 

It’s too quiet in the apartment. 

Pickle isn’t yapping at her feet, which she’s _happy_ about obviously, but on the other hand Fitz isn’t here to bounce ideas off of. What’s even worse is the fact that it’s a bloody _Sunday_ meaning that she and Fitz won’t even get to see each other in their lab. 

It’s wholly unnerving, not having him near, and Jemma finds that she misses him terribly. She wonders when she became the type of woman who can’t go twelve hours without her significant other. She used to scoff at such people but _now_ she actually feels a bit proud that she’s managed to go almost _twelve whole hours_ without Fitz. She gets up to pace around the silent apartment, chewing her fingernail as she tries to think of a solution, and then realizes that quite literally nothing is stopping her from seeing Fitz. 

She doesn’t _need_ a solution because there isn’t actually a problem. She all but sprints back to the table she’d been working on all morning, snatching her phone from the surface and tapping on her most-dialed contact. It doesn’t even fully ring _once_ before Fitz is answering with a delighted, “Jem!” 

The sound causes a smile to break out across her face as she directs a fond laugh into the receiver. She doesn’t actually _say_ anything though and her silence prompts Fitz to ask, “What going on? Are you okay?” 

She lets out another small laugh, nodding to his question before remembering that (thanks to her _genius_ plan to get more work done) he can’t actually _see_ her. “Yeah I’m fine, just hit a bit of a roadblock and needed… I don’t know. Just wanted to talk to you.” 

“Yeah?” 

Jemma can hear the smile in his voice and hopes he can hear hers in her answering, “Always.” 

“Well, I was just about to take Pickle for a walk in the park. Fancy a change of scenery? We can pop into TeaTime and say hi to Marta along the way!” 

She grins again and says, “That sounds absolutely lovely.” 

Fitz hoots in excitement and Jemma feels a surge of warmth at the realization that he seems to miss her as much as she misses him. “Okay! Meet in front of ours in five?” 

“See you then.” 

After hanging up the phone, she grabs her wallet, keys, and a scarf before making her way downstairs to await Fitz’s arrival. 

When she finally sees his familiar silhouette round the corner, much like he had every day during their SciTech era interactions, Jemma can’t stop herself from briskly walking towards Fitz and wrapping her arms around his torso the moment he’s in reaching difference. He chuckles warmly, giving her an affectionate kiss when she untangles herself from him and wraps his arm around her shoulders. 

Jemma gives him a beaming grin and opens her mouth to begin conversation when a sharp yelp comes from the direction of her feet. She glances down to see Pickle looking up at her and Fitz, tail wagging excitedly and tongue lolling out of his mouth. Surprisingly… the sight _almost_ brings a smile to her face and Jemma bites her lip to stop it before Fitz catches sight of it. 

Luckily he seems more focused on his rumbling stomach, puffing out his chest and beckoning forward with a jovial, “C’mon then! To TeaTime! Hope Marta doesn’t make me fix the bloody dishwasher today. Bloody hell thatwas a _nightmare_ last time…” 

Jemma laughs at Fitz’s mutterings and loops an arm around his waist as he leads her and the little mongrel at her heels in the direction of the teashop. 

They spend the day lounging in the park, Jemma spouting the issues with her presentation and Fitz readily throwing out ideas and solutions that spark something in Jemma and cause an instantaneous breakthrough. She revels in the normalcy of it all, appreciating the fact that, though there’s nothing overwhelmingly extraordinary about it, this day is one of her favorites simply because it’s spent with Fitz. 

Meaning she feels rather somber when, later that night, she climbs into bed alone and falls asleep after saying goodnight to her boyfriend over the phone. 

-O- 

Day 5 

“So, how are… things?” 

The look Skye gives her across the table is more than enough to clue Jemma into what _things_ her friend is asking about. It’s the standard mixture of curiosity and mischief that usually gets Jemma into trouble. Of course, she’s not going to give the other girl the satisfaction of so easily plying her of information this time, so she gives a noncommittal shrug of the shoulders before reaching for a long-cooled chip. 

“I think I’ve _finally_ worked out the right dosage for the dispersal mechanism in my latest project at SciOps, Fitz and I’s ICER patent was accepted so… I’d say things are going rather well!” 

She shoots Skye a cheery grin, coupled with a triumphant raising of the brow and feels a deep satisfaction at the sight of her friend rolling her eyes and slumping down in the booth with a huff. 

“Simmons, you are a complete and utter bore.” 

Jemma winces at what she _thinks_ is Skye’s attempt at an English accent before grinning at her with a shrug. Skye shakes her head in mock disappointment before reaching for her drink and taking a long sip. When she deliberately thunks the glass back onto the table, Jemma braces for the inquisition that is sure to come. 

Unsurprisingly, Skye leans across the table and rests her chin in her hands. “While I’m _ecstatic_ that your boring science stuff is going well… I think it’d be better for the both of us if we cut to the chase and get down to Fitzness.” 

Jemma quirks her head and questions, “Fitzness?” 

She knows exactly what Skye meant but gets too much amusement from her friend’s exasperated explanations. 

“Yeah like Fitz and busin… you know what never mind. Spill.”

Jemma rolls her eyes before assuring Skye that, “There’s nothing _to_ spill.” 

Her friend stares at her for a long moment before pulling back with a shrug that Jemma knows is the _opposite_ of innocent. “Look all I’m saying is… when you and Fitz moved in together, call me crazy, but I thought it meant you two might actually, you know, _live together._ ” 

_You and me both._

Jemma releases a small sigh before straightening up and answering Skye with as much British primness as she can muster. “Yes well… I’ll live with him in 2 days, 8 hours, and 17 minutes when Mack reclaims the spawn of Satan.” 

“Oh c’mon Jems. Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic? You two spent three weeks yapping about apartments, another two throwing around words like ‘Escrow’ and ‘renter’s insurance,’ and _then_ made me and Trip waste a perfectly good Saturday evening helping you move into that dumb apartment. You want to live with Fitz as much as I _don’t_ want to live with him.” 

“You’re completely right Skye.” Jemma nods eagerly at her friends words, 100% certain that she actually wants to live with Fitz quite a bit more than Skye _doesn’t._ “I do want to live with _him._ I do _not_ want to live with… Pickle.” She shudders as the name leaves her mouth and wonders once more how a hulking giant like Mack could name a dog something so unintimidating. 

_Perhaps it’s meant to be ironic. Or some subconscious attempt at seeming less intimidating himself… Hmm… that might actually make for an interesting study._

“You’d rather live with Fitz and _his_ pickle than a freaking adorable French-bulldog puppy _named_ Pickle?!”

“Skye!” Jemma glances around to make sure that none of the other patrons have heard her friend’s less than subtle innuendo before turning back to shoot the other girl a glare… that doesn’t seem to phase her in the least considering she just shrugs and says, “I’m just saying, two pickles are better than one.” 

Jemma blanches at the comment and blanches _again_ when Skye reaches towards her plate and bites into the _actual_ pickle that had been previously skewered to her hamburger. 

“You’re disgusting and I’d like to resign as your platonic life-partner.” 

“Too late. Life-partner means _for life._ Duh.” 

The smile Skye gives her is a genuine one and Jemma doesn’t hesitate to return it. Other than her relationship with Fitz, Skye is the absolute best thing that’s happened to her in the past year and the two women are both well aware that they really _will_ be lifelong friends. Jemma pats the other girl’s hand where it’s resting on the table before reaching for another chip. 

It’s silent for a few moments, each of them picking at what’s left of their respective meals, before Skye gives a low sigh and says, “He cried last night.” 

“Who, Trip?” 

Skye looks at her as though she’s a moron and Jemma blinks in confusion until her friend rolls her eyes with a huff. “No not, _Trip._ What the hell does _Trip_ have to cry about?Fitz! Fitz cried.” 

Jemma’s eyes widen at her friend’s statement because it makes _no_ sense to her. “ _What?!”_  

It comes out as a hybrid between a shriek and a shout and Jemma blushes when the old lady a booth over shoots her a glare. She leans across the table and heatedly whispers, “What do you mean _Fitz_ cried?” 

Skye just shrugs nonchalantly and takes a sip of what Jemma’s pretty sure is the fourth Coke Phil’s brought her. “Yup. Said he thought maybe you were just using the dog as an excuse because you’ve changed your mind about moving in together.” 

Jemma’s mouth drops open at this and she wracks her brain trying to think of how, after the _hours_ they’d spent finding the perfect place for the _both_ of them, he could think she regrets the decision. 

“ _What?!_ I told him… he was _fine_ today in the lab! We even took a long lunch to…” She trails off at the sight of Skye’s smirk and waggling eyebrows, blushing furiously at the realization that what she and Fitz had done in the lab’s supply closet that afternoon ironically _is_ called, “Hide the Pickle,” by some of the more immature individuals on Earth. 

She coughs slightly and reaches for her drink as she ponders how Fitz could _still_ think she didn’t want him. It doesn’t add up. She’d _told_ him that she couldn’t wait until he came home, they had a _lovely_ day yesterday, and today… well she’s _still_ a bit sore from their afternoon activities. 

 _How in the hell could he…_  

Jemma’s eyes narrow at the girl across from her as she understands that Skye has once again tricked her into saying more than she intended. 

“You weren’t being serious were you.” 

Skye shakes her head with an innocent smile that only remains in place for a second before being replace by a mischievous grin. “Nah, just messing with you. Fishing for information, you know how it is. Fitz is hopelessly in love with you and fully aware that his affections are requited. We ordered Chinese and played with the cutest puppy on the face of the Earth last night.”

She plucks an ice cube from her drink, popping it into her mouth and crunching on it before tilting her head speculatively. “Though, Fitz is such a baby he probably _will_ cry about something sooner or later. I can imagine it now: ‘I miss Jemma,’ ‘I want to go home, ‘This dog is dumb,’ ‘Mack is dumb,’ ‘ _Please_ take care of Pickle Skye,’ wah, wah, wah.” 

Skye rolls her eyes slightly before popping another ice cube and suddenly leaning forward to grasp Jemma’s hand. “ _Please_ get over your aversion to adorable house pets beforeI have to deal with the inevitable, ‘Missing Jemma Fitz.’ I dealt with him once and would rather be thrown into a piranha tank than go through _that_ again.” 

Jemma ignores the subtle reference to the, “Dark Days,” and instead focuses on the fact that Skye actually seems genuinely desperate to be rid of Pickle. After the unnecessary torture of thinking she’d unknowingly caused Fitz to break down in tears, Jemma decides to see how much Skye wants her to take the boy and his temporary pup off her hands. “Nope. Sorry, you get Fitz and Pickle.” 

“C’mon! _Please_ take your puppies back! It’s only a few day’s ‘til Mack’s back, and I know that Pickle is a nuisance, but hey, at the very least it’ll be good practice, right?” 

“ _Practice?_ Practice for _what?!_ There’s no way I’m letting Fitz get that monkey Skye. I’ve told the two of you that a million times. You _really_ need to accept it.” 

Skye gives her a confused look for a moment as though Jemma’s just spoken in Klingon before her eyes widen infinitesimally and her expression grows to resemble more of a hybrid between incredulous and patronizing. The other girl shakes her head slowly with a sigh before saying, “Jemma, there’s no _way_ someone as smart as you is that dense.” 

“Skye _what_ are you going on abo...” 

As she’s speaking Jemma spots a couple walking through the doors of Phil’s with a small toddler grasping on to each of their hands. Her eyes flit between Skye and the family at the other end of the room and suddenly feels the air leave her lungs as she realize just what it is Skye thinks she and Fitz might need practice for. 

“Oh. _Ohhhh…_ ” 

“It’s always fun watching the light bulb go off in that genius brain of yours.” 

“I don’t… That’s not… We haven’t…” 

Skye laughs at her bumbling and shakes her head in amusement. “I’m only teasing Simmons.” Jemma sighs in relief until Skye continues talking. 

“Let’s focused on getting you hitched first. Don’t worry, Fitz already knows you’ve got a thing for the Cushion cut. I’ve got your back.” Skye ends the statement a wink that has Jemma’s eyes widening once again as she chokes on her drink. Skye falls into another fit of laughter that only stops when Jemma retaliates with a cocky, “Good, and don’t you worry Skye. Trip’s been informed that you’re more of a Princess girl yourself.” 

- 

After finishing dinner and bidding Skye goodnight, Jemma finds herself sitting in the middle of her bed thinking over her friend’s words. 

 _Does she dislike Pickle more than she loves Fitz? Absolutely not. So why in the hell is he not here right now?_  

She grabs her phone, thumb reaching to hit Fitz’s speed dial when his photo pops up onscreen with an incoming call. Jemma taps the green button as quickly as she can and is greeted with her favorite voice in the world. 

“Hey Jem, just calling to say goodni…” 

“ _Fitz.”_

She cuts him off before he can finish because she doesn’t want him to say goodnight over the phone. 

“Yeah?” He sounds a bit puzzled and Jemma bites her lip in excitement. 

“Do… do you think you and Pickle could come home tonight? I don’t… I haven’t… I miss you. Our bed’s too big.” 

It’s silent for a few seconds before Fitz is calling out for Pickle to, “Come here boy,” and telling her they’ll be back at the apartment in thirty. 

They _actually_ burst through the door in ten and Jemma uses the twenty unused minutes to give Fitz a proper welcome home. 

Day 6 

“You taught him this in _two_ days?!”

Jemma’s watching in astonishment as Pickle sticks his little paw out to her for a handshake and then rolls over on his back, tongue lolling out of his mouth, when she points finger guns at him. 

Fitz scoffs from where he’s sitting with a bag of treats in his lap and looks at her as though she’s just claimed to hate Dr. Who. 

“ _Please_ Jemma. I taught him that in two _hours._ He’s a smart little guy, aren’t you Pick? Good boy!” 

Jemma watches in delight as the little puppy all but trips over his feet in an effort to get to Fitz as quickly as his legs will carry him. He bounds into Fitz’s lap, nosing at the tightly sealed bag of biscuits, and promptly collapses asleep when he realizes that he won’t be getting one. 

Fitz smiles fondly down at the small pup and _Jemma_ smiles fondly at Fitz, scooting over on the floor so that she can lean against his shoulder and card her fingers through his hair. His own fingers are gently petting the bundle of fur in his lap and Jemma reaches forward with her free hand to do the same, fingers running along the length of Pickle’s back. 

“I also designed a special chew toy for him. Poor little guy’s been teething, that’s why he decided to destroy half our things, so I made something that’d help. You can adjust it so it’s cold or hot and it’s got these pore things that release little drops of liquid baby aspirin in timed doses to help with the pain. He hasn’t chewed anything else since!” 

Jemma grins at Fitz’s enthusiasm and looks at him in admiration as he details all of the other things he’s done to help train the small puppy. Halfway through explaining the horrors of potty training, Fitz gesticulates wildly and startles Pickle awake. The small animal gives a croaky yawn, glances at Fitz’s moving hands, and slowly clambers over his legs into Jemma’s lap. Once nestled in, he falls back asleep again and leaves her gaping at the sight. 

When she looks up and catches Fitz’s soft look, she knows she’s about to hear something akin to, “I told you so.”

“You really don’t like him? Not even a _little_ bit?” 

Jemma looks at the dozing puppy peacefully curled up in her lap and sighs in defeat before giving Fitz a wry grin.

“I… I suppose he _is_ rather cute.” 

-O- 

Day 7 

“You’re _sure_ you don’t want to leave him here for another night? So you can settle in first? Fitz and I would be more than happy to drop him off first thing tomorrow!” 

Mack chuckles at the question, likely because it’s the fifth time she’s asked it, and Jemma sighs because she’s sure his answer will be the same. 

“Appreciate the offer Simmons, but it’s time to bring this little guy home.” He reaches forward to extract the sleeping Pickle from her arms and Jemma has to consciously tell herself that it would be wrong to take the dog and run. Mack seems to sense her reluctance to hand the puppy over because he gives her a sympathetic look coupled with an affectionate squeeze to the shoulder. 

“I can’t thank you enough for looking after him.” 

She opens her mouth to tell him that it was really _Fitz_ who’d done all the work, but her boyfriend wraps an arm around her shoulder and says, “Our pleasure,” before she can get the words out. 

They wave goodbye to Mack and each spend more time than necessary giving Pickle his goodbye pets, and the next thing Jemma knows the front door is closed and she’s alone with Fitz in their apartment. It’s quiet for a few moments before Fitz cards his fingers through his hair and turns to her with a smile. 

“So… that was _quite_ the week we had wasn’t i…” 

Jemma shuts him up in her favorite way before he can finish the statement, lips fused against his in a kiss that causes an explosion of butterflies in her gut and fireworks in her heart. She laughs in delight when Fitz wraps his arms around her waist, hoisting her up and carrying her to their bedroom without removing his lips from hers. 

-O- 

The next morning they’re lazing in bed together, Fitz’s fingers releasing knots from her hair as Jemma’s cheek is pillowed against his bare chest. She sighs in complete and utter contentment, pressing further into him with a pleased hum as his fingers shift to rub soothing circles along her back and hers trace the now familiar dark lines of the tattoo on his torso. 

“I’m sorry again. For not talking to you first before agreeing to watch Pickle.” 

The words are spoken softly and Jemma cranes her neck so that Fitz can she her soft smile and understand that she’s sincere when she says, “It’s okay… he… he rather grew on me if I’m being honest. I didn’t mind so much in the end.” 

He gives her a soft smile and a peck to the lips in return before tugging her closer to him and Jemma luxuriates in the feeling of being nestled safely in Fitz’s arms. She basks in the feeling of being home. 

It’s quiet for a few peaceful moments and Jemma is just on the cusp of dozing when Fitz releases his telltale nervous cough that instantly puts her on alert. 

“So then you… you won’t be mad when I tell you I might have accidentally agreed to look after Hunter’s cat next weekend?” 

“Ugh, _Fitz!”_


End file.
